As if viewing a movie, I watched a man and woman who were on the run from someone; I felt like they were husband and wife. They moved from place to place, hiring themselves out as farm hands to get food and shelter. At the last farm, they were given a tiny, one-room shack to live in. They went to bed and were awakened by the shouts of men and the sound of horses the next morning. They shared a look and said 'It's time', then they shared a quick kiss just as the door was kicked open. They were dragged from the bed by a group of militia-type men. Smoke was everywhere. The woman was taken up to the balcony of an adjacent building and while she was being assaulted, the man was being brutally beaten to death by a group of men. They took turns hitting and kicking the man. Just before he died, he signed "I" (pointing his thumb towards his own chest) "love" (his arms crossed his chest) "you" (pointed at the soldier who stood in front of him with his fist drawn back). As the man slumped to the ground, I thought to myself: Why are they doing this?! Someone shouted "They're Armenians!", almost as if they had heard my question. I felt fear, horror, then anger and frustration at my inability to help the couple. Then I was confused about why the "Armenians" were being targeted. My son said he came in while I was asleep and I was tossing and turning and seemed angry.

I woke up aggrieved and decided to do some research; what I learned about the persecution and destruction of roughly 75% of Armenian Christians a century ago floored me. The 100-year anniversary was just a couple days ago on April 24th. This huge sense of loss has lodged in my heart ever since....